Night Gone Black
by ShinyThingsGirl
Summary: This is the game and it's them circling each other while I hold Beck back on a leash. But Tori is free. Jade/Beck Jade/Tori Collab with writeitonme


I worked with writeitonme ( u/2329729/writeitonme) on this and I throughout enjoyed the process. I really do think our styles compliment each other and so I hope you enjoy the story. It's a bit explicit with spicy language and, as always, if that is not your thing there tons of other great stories on here. We more than welcome all reviews especially on this story since this was our first collab so we'd love to hear what everyone thought. And if we should work together again :) Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this and thank you writeitonme for such a great experience.

* * *

More happens in the dark. Something is always playing in shadows; whispers and nothings and somethings. Darkness amplifies. The sound of my teeth softly grinding, the thin wisps of breath that seem to echo at the base of my neck then crawl down my spinal column. The constant, unfeigned resonance of heartbeats that pound like a taiko drum under rib bones. And still, I can hear past this. In this darkness I can hear the slight crackle of fire meters away, up a dirt path, as clearly as the sound of water lapping at the sun-bleached dock below us.

The nighttime air is thick and numb against my skin, somehow louder than anything else. Imprinted in my retinas and augmented by the dark obscurity, images dance in my eyes. They are faces painted in a violent glow, smiles and eyes reflecting gold.

Where these faces are, where the people who they belong to are, is not my concern. But the darkness amplifies. And even as splinters catch on my jeans now halfway down my thighs, I try not to think about that fire so dangerously close, the people around it within earshot, our friends who would grin knowingly at the sounds that threaten to leave my throat. Those sounds are habitually his, usually issuing from Beck's mouth. Sometimes hauntingly quiet, other times granite harsh but always opposite of mine. Sound against silence.

It's a stronger wave striking the dock, jostling boats and it's wooden floorboards biting under my palms while his hips buck and twist and hitch behind me. Then all thought drowns, swallowed in the sharp ringing in my ears and in the soft pants I swear are not mine. It's all static until a clipped moan is forced from my swollen lips, effectively unwinding my jaw. Craning my neck back, I let out a growl, glaring at him.

I refuse to let anyone else hear such articulation from me. Not because they aren't allowed to know what we're doing here but because I sound vulnerable, exposed, a raw nerve.

He glances up, brows knit, lips slightly parted and I almost moan again.

Recognizing the scowl etched on my face, he gives me a mix of a warm smile and an amused smirk, and then hitches his hips the same way he did and I barely catch the moan pushing out from my throat. I'm about to pull away, elbowing him when he lowers himself, chest brushing my back. He litters my neck with fluttering kisses and even softer whispers of an apology. I laugh at him. Just like that everything is forgiven, and I clench around him, pushing my hips up against his rhythm. He responds with his own breathy laugh. His hands are tight on my hips, he is grinding deeper, faster and in a rush everything turns, everything edges white for three seconds.

We come down from the high with him pressing a kiss behind my ear and rolling on his back beside me. We lay there, the floor grainy under my face, breathing in the smell of salt and ocean and the pine tar of boats. A few moments more in the dark and it's over.

He coaxes me out gently-so gently, I almost swat away his hand when he reaches for mine-leading me back towards the fire pit and we make it back up the serpentine path without incident, our eyes adjusting to the muted colors under the night sky and the faint glow of fire.

**::**

Somehow out of everyone, I knew it would be her sitting alone in front of that fire, the only one who would choose to listen. Listen to him, crave to hear him. I grind my teeth together, eyes narrowing to slits at her.

"Hi, Tori," Beck says with a too-wide smile, his tone as warm as the fire. And it comes to me that he wanted her to hear as much as she wanted to listen. His hands slightly loosen around me but I grip tighter, digging my nails into his olive skin. I can still feel the ache of him between my legs for fuck's sake.

She responds with a smile, ultimately ignoring me. Beck also seems to be doing the same, asking where everyone went as he takes half a step forward like he's keeping me away from her. And I know it's just in her to buy into that too-casual tone of his and the way he brushes through his hair.

I can't stand watching them when they get like this, as if I'm not here and all I can think is that this is a twisted game that Tori Vega must never ever win. I level her with another glare as she shifts her shoulders up and down, answering Beck's question with a shrug. Every fiber of my being hums with rage and forced restraint.

"Think they went looking for wood," she adds, indifferent and unsure and uncaring of where the others are at this very second.

Looking at Beck I know how I should play this. Allowing myself to lash out will only mean losing. I let my shoulders slacken, adapting mock apathy almost on command but still not letting my eyes off Tori.

"Hey, I'm coming up for drinks. You want one?" He asks her and not me.

"Yeah, sure, I'll come with you."

This is the game and there are three people playing. This is the game and it started when she showed her face. This is the game and it's them circling each other while I hold Beck back on a leash. But Tori is free.

And she's already getting up, eager for this excuse to be with him and incredibly I realize my sweater is in the boathouse.

"Beck, my sweater's gone," I say, tugging him the other way, back to the place where we came together.

"Babe, it's probably down there. Meet you at the cottage?" He isn't even looking at me. I'm a distracted crease on his forehead while his eyes are following Tori.

**::**

I find the sweater hanging off an oar. It feels rough in my hands. I tried to win the game, tried to pull Beck away from her but I must have lost. Because while I study my stupid sweater, forced to get it after I mentioned it missing, they are together. _Fate_ may want them together.

Well fuck fate.

Fleeting thoughts are saying to hurry back, speaking softly in my head that something is about to go very wrong. Whatever that _something_ is, it's pulling my strings taut.

The others are out looking for wood to burn and now I'm even angry at their absence. Another curse, one of the many tonight, seeps out with my breath.

Hearing muffled voices, my head snaps up, eyes scanning sharply-almost manically-around. I squint, taking a tentative step towards two silhouettes standing outside on the back porch of the cottage. For them I'm probably elsewhere, oblivious to the way Beck bends over Tori. I take another step and she's leaning on a plastic table, slender body also bending to him. They're like brand new spring stalks coming together in the fucking melting snow and I choke at how disgusting that poetic prose tastes on my tongue.

I come out off the shadows, striding past them, not being able to take any more of this shit.

"Jade!" He jumps away from her as if she burns.

"Beck," I hiss, lips parting to a smile, a show of teeth to acknowledge the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face.

"What are you doing there?" He inches farther from Tori but doesn't make a move towards me. He's ready to back away, escape maybe. Why ask when he knows where I've been? Was he really that absorbed in her that he forgot about me?

"Enjoying the show," I say, casually glancing between them and resting my back on the railing. Crossing my arms, I tilt my head intently at Tori. She doesn't meet my eyes but she also doesn't look surprised, like she was expecting this. "What did I miss?" I ask, speaking directly to her.

Tori shrugs as she did earlier. "We got the drinks." She lifts one, smart enough not to hand it to me—I would have thrown it in her face.

"Fuck this. Fuck you." I say quietly, calmly and I push myself off the railing like nothing of this ever happened, moving to the sliding doors of the cottage. Tori doesn't budge when Beck starts shuffling to fall in step with me. She does not flinch when I come mere inches away to pass her by. I almost respect her for that.

"It wasn't anything. We were just joking around," is Beck's nervous excuse, insisting as he continues following through the cottage. I am too tired tonight to deal with him properly.

"Drop dead Beck," I tell him and I mean it because I know he would fuck her if only we weren't together-if I let go of the leash.

But the twisted thing about our relationship is that I like it this way-probably one of the reasons we're still together-with Tori in the equation. I'm only happy when it's complicated and baby, it's fucking complicated.

"Jade, please."

I slam the door shut on his face.

**::**

Alone in the darkness of the room Beck and I share, I think how much this will eat away at him. Guilt is a bitch but I wouldn't know. I grin, throwing my clothes off, happily ignoring the new chatter and slurs from outside the door -Cat's the loudest, always has been. I lie on the bed and eventually I doze.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the door quietly opens, lifting me from my dream-clouded sleep. My eyelids feel too heavy to rise and everything is soundless so I lay there, pretending to be asleep as the bed dips. It all still feels like dreaming, even when he straddles me. I twist fully onto my back, allowing him this for now, and feel the tips of his hair brushing my face. With eyes still half lidded, I reach up, twinning my hands into those brown locks that are too long and that are somehow cascading all around me, splaying over my shoulders.

My eyes snap open.

"Tori," I manage to exhale sharply before she steals the rest of the air that is left in my lungs. There is no softness in how she takes me, how she conquers my open mouth with her tongue. She tastes like roasted marshmallows and charcoal. And something in me crackles almost loud enough to be heard in the darkness.

Her hand pins my wrists over my head and I want her off, feebly kick my legs to unbalance her. Her tongue fills my mouth, her hand skims my bare sides, her breaths ragged as she keeps pushing me back down, trying to force her rule. And that crackle, that sliver of fire riles inside me and all of a sudden, I'm arching, chest lifting to her like she spoke a secret word only my body understood.

She bites my lip, growling as I fight to rise up again. She shoves me back down cruelly, showing me exactly who's in control. I bite back, sinking teeth on her lip. A moan fractures from her throat before she growls, grinding her pelvis hard into mine in retribution for what I've done.

"Did you like it?" I grunt out, still pushing up, struggling, trying to do with words what I cannot do with actions.

"Did I like what?" she asks against my skin, not pausing as she licks and rakes at my collarbone and up to the ridge of my jaw, her nails digging painfully in my forearms, branding her marks over my star tattoo.

"Did you like hearing him? Did you imagine he was fucking you?"

She abruptly stops and hovers over me, staring at me intently. She opens her mouth and for a second I think she'll come out of it, stammering and fidgeting. I always did underestimate her.

Her limbs relax but she never loosens her grip on me. "Wasn't listening to him," she says a little breathless, her eyes bright and shiny. I tilt my head, eyes narrowing while I flex my hands to test her. She lifts an eyebrow at me, at my effort, a smirk playing on her lips.

We stare at each other in the darkness like that, my chest heaving still. Then she grows suddenly serious, and bucks hard, her jean seam massaging me through my thin panties. "I was listening to you."

I rip one hand free from her grip, clutching the back of her neck to pull her in, frantically taking her lips. She groans, sliding one knee to press into just the right spot and I strain upwards, feeling her exposed skin burning on mine.

"Off," I growl, breathing hot against her lips, tugging at her shirt and she complies, lifting it over her head, her bra follows almost immediately after. She sinks back down, practically clawing at my bra until it's off and she's palming and pinching and sucking me into a mess of mewls and moans.

Her lips travel everywhere, like she's mapping every inch of my skin. My hands slide and claw up and down her back, hips canting for more. Back on my neck, she bites and licks up my earlobe while she traces my inner thighs, the band of my panties. They are pulled off and still, she is only skimming, diverting around where I want her.

"Fucking tease," I bite out, groaning and smearing wetness up her thigh. She answers with her own groan at my hand cupping and rubbing over her jean shorts. She kisses me again, all tongue and teeth and whimpers and I've never been so alive as she sucks my tongue with abandon. Fuck, where did she learn to be so goddamn dirty?

Without breaking the kiss, she shimmies out of her shorts and settles back down on my thigh and my god she's so wet, soaking through her panties. I reach down and promptly shove the material aside, making first contact with her cunt. She's throbbing and is, oh so hot on my fingers. She's still hovering above me, mouth still insistent, stopping only for quick sips of air or gasping every time I circle her clit and shallowly push a finger inside. She pulls back, hands resting on either side of my head, staring into me with so much intent, hair sticking against sun-kissed skin. I watch her face, her brows furrowed in concentration, tongue darting out to wet her parted lips while my hand continues exploring her folds, rubbing her until she's whimpering my name along with a slew of words I never thought would come out her mouth.

Two fingers, knuckle-deep inside her, she's kissing me again, soft yet insisting and chanting my name and god's over and over, her hips hitching until she comes, voice sharper and louder, my thumb pressing on her clit as she rides it down.

"I fucking hate you," I whisper to her. She doesn't answer though, just slinks down after sharing my air for a while. Not really, needing to be told, my legs open wide for her.

"Hate me but so wet for me," she says, voice ragged and deep, keeping her eyes locked with mine as she drags the tip of her finger down my slit, making me shiver despite myself. My hips buck up for her without my consent, she is still casting that spell over my body, telling it what to do.

"Finish what you've started." More beg than demand and I am exposed.

And her eyes grow impossibly darker, like she's inhuman, like a demon about to go down on me. Smiling, she dips down, slides off my ruined panties, and returns, placing hot wet fluttering kisses up the inside of my right leg.

I look up at the ceiling, listening to the erratic pants straining my chest, clamoring for air as if I'm drowning. It's not enough and it feels like catching fire-her tongue flat on my cunt, sucking and biting and teasing. And when she dips her tongue inside me, me eyes snap shut, head throwing back hard into the mattress.

I don't really understand what it is about her fingers embedded on my thighs, or her head bobbing between my legs, or her arms holding almost clinging and keeping me spread apart, or her stilted breathing brushing my center that overwhelms me. That frays every nerve in my body. That forces the sounds from me which I somehow allow to escape into the darkness. I don't understand it. It's not like no one has ever gone down on me. But something about this is different and it's pushing me hard and fast.

When I come, it's like crashing. A combustion that lasts too long and is too violent. Her eyes are the first thing I see when everything clears away from white and it's her soft smile that lulls me to sleep. I hear her speak softly.

"Now I own you."

**::**

My eyes flutter open. Something is not right. Everything is different-solid and not fleeting, cut sharp in the light of early dawn. There is an arm resting across my stomach but it belongs to the wrong person. And I almost shoot up, frightened by my own disappointment. At what exactly, I'm not sure. All I know is the arm is a much darker contrast against my skin.

I lay limply, resting on my side, watching Beck and the serene yet brooding look on his face, his light snoring so ordinary. And I put behind me everything that happened last night. Ignore whatever it was, whatever happened because I can. Because I don't care.

But in darkness, it will be different. In the darkness, things are not so easily ignored. The dark amplifies and I will not be able to resist.


End file.
